


What Are We Supposed To Do Now?

by char_03



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, F/M, No Beta, Powerful Harry Potter, Slytherin Harry Potter, Time Travel Fix-It, powerful Lavender Brown, time-travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/char_03/pseuds/char_03
Summary: Takes place during sixth yearHarry has another one of his ‘lessons’ with Dumbledore.What if Dumbledore was late that day? How would that change the future of the Wizarding World?OrHarry has a lot on his mind after Dumbledore tells him to find out what a horcrux is and Lavender Brown isn’t making it any easier.ORHarry does something he probably wasn’t supposed to do and now he’s in trouble. Again.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Lavender Brown
Comments: 27
Kudos: 76





	1. How We Got Here

**Author's Note:**

> Based on prompt by u/StellaStarMagic on reddit
> 
> This is my first ever fanfiction and I’m sooooo nervous
> 
> Sorry for any spelling or/and grammatical errors  
> :(
> 
> Sorry this is kinda short 
> 
> Harry’s thoughts in italics 
> 
> Criticism is very appreciated!!
> 
> Please enjoy <3

“Jelly Slugs,” Harry said to the gargoyle. He had almost forgotten about Dumbledore’s request to see him, when Hermione had sternly reminded him (by whacking him on the head of course).

The gargoyle jumped out of the way and Harry ascended the stairs with sweaty palms.

He knocked on the door and stepped inside not waiting for an answer. Dumbledore was expecting him after all.

However, there was no one inside the office.

“Sir?” Harry called out. There was no response. He called out again and, much like last the time, was met with no reply. Harry sighed and took a seat. His eyes wandered over the many trinkets in the Headmaster’s office, suppressing the guilt he felt when some didn’t quite look the same.

His eyes fell on one of the older devices, on top of one of many bookshelves.  
Claws attached to a thin rectangle attached to some handles. It stood out comically. Whereas most of the trinkets shone with a certain other-worldliness, this one was dull and looked very... barbaric.

Harry felt strangely drawn to it. He picked it up gingerly and almost tripped.  
 _  
Lighter than I expected..._

He ran his thumb across it and felt very small engravings. Runes.  
They looked much different than he had expected. He had seen Hermione’s book every once in a while when he glanced over at her and while he never took the class he knew these runes were different. What he didn’t know what was made them so different.

It frustrated him to no end. He was certain something was amiss...

Harry didn’t have time to contemplate it any further because that’s when Dumbledore flooed into his office gracefully.

Harry yelped and almost dropped the strange device.  
Luckily, he caught it.  
Unluckily, he cut himself pretty badly on his arm and immediately dropped it again. It was a shallow but very long cut, one that started from the palm of his hand to the middle of the area between his hand and elbow.

“Harry!” Dumbledore yelled. “Are you alright, my boy?”  
  
Harry had never seen the wizened wizard so panicked.

Harry grimaced. “I’ll be okay...” he said, squashing down a groan of pain.

Dumbledore stared at him for a long minute, as if waiting for something to happen. Then, very slowly, he shook his head and healed the cut.

“Let’s get started.”

Neither of them wanted to.

***********

Harry left the office, shoulders heavier than before. His thoughts raced as his feet led him through the castle, seemingly on autopilot.

“Harry!” exclaimed a girlish voice.

Harry rolled his eyes. Now really wasn’t the time. “Yes, Lavender?”

“Do you know where my Ronnie is? I’ve been looking for him everywhere!”

Ron was most likely avoiding his supposed girlfriend. Harry couldn’t blame him.

Lavender was... overeager. Yes, that’s the word. _Overeager_. She was pretty, yes, but very demanding. Her very presence radiated this undeniable energy where you didn’t know where you should be close or very, very far away from her. It was like someone placed a relatively weak compulsion charm on her. Harry frowned.

“I haven’t seen him either.”

“Are you sure?” insisted the loquacious Gryffindor.

Harry chose this moment to drown out her voice. She babbled on about some message and a closet but there was only one thing on Harry’s mind.

Horcruxes.  
His stomach flipped.

“I’ve got to go,” Harry mumbled.

Lavender stopped talking abruptly. She paused and Harry was just about to push past her when she grabbed his arm.

“Were you even listening?! I’ve got to find Ron, he promised that—“

Harry cried out in pain. His arm, just where Lavender grabbed him, started to spasm and twist. It was worse than any muscle cramp Harry ever experienced and he immediately fell to his knees.

_Dumbledore... didn’t he heal the cut?_

Lavender froze and knelt next to him. She stuck out her arm, ready to soothe Harry by massaging his neck. The second her fingers touched him, his neck tensed very hard and Harry hissed, clamping his teeth together.

Lavender also reacted to the touch, for as she tried her best to help (bless her oblivious heart), a very painful jolt of electricity travelled up her arm. She yelped.

_This must be how Quirrell felt when I killed him._

That was Harry’s last thought before his grasp on reality started to slip. He tried to fight the darkness, but his mind didn’t allow him to. His own brain was betraying him.

***************

When Harry felt his consciousness return, he sat up with impossible speed. A few curses slipped past his lips as his head seemingly burst into flames. It was like he had just drank a full bottle of fire-whiskey.

A very soft hand was holding his and took several blinks to realize it was Lavender.

_What the fuck just happened?_

_Voldemort? No... it couldn’t be... my scar doesn’t hurt._

Harry found it hard to breathe.

“How long was I out?”

“Hmm? Oh, just a couple of minutes probably.”

Harry scowled. “And you didn’t go find a professor?” His voice took a dangerous tone.

Lavender scoffed. “I was going to!”

Harry glared at her, his very low patience levels running out. “Why didn’t you then, pray tell? Please, Lavender, tell me what goes on in that head of yours.”

Lavender didn’t seem to be affected by Harry’s acerbic mood. She glared right back, before her gaze softened. “I don’t know... everything started spinning.”

“Everything started... spinning?” he repeated stupidly.

“Yes!” Lavender snapped before all the color drained from her face. “This is because I forgot to rub powdered Alihotsy on my wrist this morning!” she wailed. “Now I’ve gone all dizzy!”

Harry shook his head. “I need to find Madam Pomfrey. My head is killing me.”

“And _I_ need to find Professor Trelawney. She’ll know how to reverse this.”

Harry rolled his eyes again. The two prophecies she spat out didn’t make up for her absolute ridiculousness. “Whatever, Lavender,” Harry grumbled. Lavender harrumphed.

Harry used the wall to help himself up, pressing his forehead against the cool stone and letting out a small sigh as the pain slightly eased.

“ _What_ are you doing out of bed?”

Harry recognized that voice.  
Harry had nightmares of that voice.  
Harry’s heart seized.

_Tom Fucking Riddle._

“Hello? It is past curfew,” Tom said, reprimanding. Harry very slowly turned around.

Lavender was right next to him, blushing profusely. Riddle took notice of the Gryffindor ties.

“Say... have I seen you two before?”

Harry’s mouth moved but no sound came out. Meanwhile, Lavender had her head bowed, staring very intently at her shoes. Harry had never seen her so abashed.

Of course Voldemort was bloody attractive. Harry knew that already, having seen this exact person in his second year. But this time was different. This time Riddle was solid, Riddle had blood.

His features were the exact same, maybe a little pinker and less transparent. High cheekbones, light blue eyes, sharp nose. His hair twisted into neat curls which framed his bastard face perfectly.

But there was something slightly different. The power the young dark lord radiated was chilling. His presence demanded respect. And while his eyes glinted like gem at first glance, deep inside hid the ability to kill his own father.

“Forty points from Gryffindor for being out of bed. You better head back before I dock more points.” His voice, smooth and low, warned half-heartedly, like he couldn’t care less whether he had to dock points or not.

Voldemort just took points off of Gryffindor.

The very idea of bloody Voldemort being a goody-two-shoes snapped Harry out of his whirling thoughts.

“Dumbledore,” he said hoarsely.

“Pardon?”

Harry grit his teeth. “Dumbledore,” he repeated. He grabbed Lavender’s arm. She let out a squeak of surprise. “We need to see him.” He was about to head the way he came when Riddle cleared his throat.

“Professor Dumbledore’s office is that way.” He gestured to the opposite direction. “Is this really so important that you have to see him now? He could be asleep.”

Harry shook his head rapidly, ignoring the growing pain. It was hardly the Cruciatus Curse. “Very important.”

Riddle frowned. It looked odd on his perfect face, a flaw. “I can take you to the infirmary.”

“No,” Harry insisted, “it has to be Dumbledore.”

Riddle stared at him, waiting for an explanation. Harry’s ears went pink. He started stammering nonsense, rapidly trying to think of an excuse.

“Transfiguration,” he finally said.

Riddle narrowed his eyes. “Oh? What about it?”

Lavender, snapping out of a reverie, spoke up. “We need his help in it,” she supplied almost helpfully. Almost.

“I can help. I do well in Transfiguration.”

“No! It is very complicated and hard and difficult stuff we are talking about. Very, very important.” Lavender said.

Harry was a second away from facepalming.

“Well... you better see him then...” Riddle stared at both of them suspiciously before concluding that they weren’t worth his time. He promptly turned around and headed down the left corridor.

Harry inhaled deeply, posture giving out.

“Who was that? Do you know him? Can you introduce me?” She groaned. “Do you think I embarrassed myself?”

“Shut up and let me think,” Harry bit out sharply, surprising himself a little.

Lavender let out a choked sort of noise but didn’t say anything else.

_What the fuck is Tom Riddle doing at Hogwarts? And why would Dumbledore’s office be anywhere but his tower? And Riddle said he has never seen either of us before..._

Harry froze.

“What?” He said, not intending to say it out loud.

“What do you mean ’what’?”

Harry’s throat went dry. His mind was circling around the answer, but he refused to admit it. There was no way. Absolutely no way that he had gone back in time.

They navigated the many twists and turns of Hogwarts. Harry wasn’t sure, but Dumbledore’s office should be where McGonagall’s was (or will be).

“Harry,” then Lavender said softly. “Have we gone back in time...?”

Harry flinched. It was different hearing it out loud. It only confirmed his fears.

_What are Ron and Hermione doing now? Are they looking for me? Or..._

Harry inhaled sharply. He remembered Hermione saying time was delicate... what if he changed something? What if he fucked everything up?

_Oh who am I kidding? Of course I’m gonna fuck everything up._

They continued the walk, Harry’s thoughts leading him down a spiral.  
Then, he let out an indignant huff of air. He knew how he made the conclusion, having met Tom Riddle, but how did Lavender?

He voiced his question.

Lavender shrugged. “The way he wore his robes. Very old-fashioned.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “I bet he’s all old and wrinkly now, that boy.”

Harry let out a snort before he could stop himself.

Old, wrinkly, and noseless.

It took a while, Hogwarts being as unpredictable as always, but they eventually reached the doors that led to McGon—Dumbledore’s office. Harry took a deep breath and knocked thrice. No answer.

“What year do you think we’re in?” Lavender asked excitedly. “Do you reckon Cassandra Trelawney is alive?”

Harry did the math in his head. “Somewhere in the 40’s.”

Lavender clapped her hands eagerly, waking up several portraits that began cursing them. Harry knocked again, louder this time, ignoring the slurs the paintings spat.

Harry, feeling his hope deflate, was about to turn away and find another solution when a very tired auburn-haired professor opened the door.

Dumbledore. His gaze landed on them, the trademark twinkle in his eyes. “I do hope this is important. I was just having a very pleasant dream about collecting dirigible plums. Sad, isn’t it, that they’re not very common.”

Harry nodded slowly while Lavender gaped.

Then, Dumbledore frowned. “Do I know you? You don’t look like any of my Gryffindors.”

Harry swallowed thickly. He knew he couldn’t say he was from the future, he knew the effects of time-travel. And while Dumbledore would be great help, it didn’t feel right telling him now (or ever, now that he thought about it). He just hoped Lavender played along.

“Well, you see...”


	2. Now That The Introductions Are Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the feedback and love it honestly made my week 
> 
> I hope this chapter is up to standard!
> 
> Don’t forget to tell me what you guys think, so I can improve 
> 
> Sorry for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes!

“Well, you see... we just bought these second-hand.”

Lavender tensed next to him.

Dumbledore hummed, accepting the answer. He stepped aside, allowing them into the office.

Harry found himself frozen. He didn’t know why, he just was. He didn’t even realize he was unmoving until Lavender nudged him gently. It was harder than he expected, to take a step. He forced his legs through.

While McGonagall’s office was proper and professional yet homely, Dumbledore’s version was a direct reflection of the man. Various Knick-knacks dangled from the ceiling and laid barren on his desk, some Harry even recognized. There was even Fawkes’ perch which he was surprised by. Although, it did make sense. How else would’ve Riddle gotten his wand core?

However, there was no sign of the strange device he had held before his arrival.

Harry tore his eyes away, trying (and failing) to not be disappointed. He took a seat next to Lavender.

“What brings you here, hmm? Especially at this time of night.”

Harry was scared, he was sure of that. He didn’t want to be here. But where else would he go? There weren’t exactly many options.

“We were hoping to transfer here.”

“Oh? And could this have not waited until the morning?”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

“Port-key malfunction,” Lavender piped up beside him. “We were supposed to be here this morning.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Ah, tricky things, port-keys are.” He looked at them pensively. “Armando did not tell me to expect anyone.”

_This is it. Dumbledore’s going to figure out we were lying and demand to tell the truth. We’ll have to tell him we time-travelled and the future will be doomed._

“...He is getting quite old, I suppose. No worries, we can still get you all sorted out.” He clasped his hands together and leaned back in his seat. “What school did you previously attend?”

And thus began the story. It wasn’t very thought-out, with Lavender both filling in some holes and adding more unnecessary details quite creatively (“We barely escaped when I used the Horn Tongue hex and Harry apparated us away!”).

Apparently, their village was attacked and Lavender’s uncle who was homeschooling them had died. With no relatives left for either of them, they had no choice but to go to Hogwarts which they have heard wonderful things about.

It was risky, unstable, and made Harry very uncomfortable. But Lavender’s act never wavered. She even bowed her head when she mentioned her dear Uncle Maurice who had died protecting them. Harry was not by any means a bad liar but he did find it hard to keep up.

Then, Dumbledore asked about their OWLs and Harry couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised when their situation got worse.

“You’ll have to retake your OWLs,” Dumbledore said apologetically. “I can not just take your word for it, you have to understand that.”

Lavender hid her face and whined.

“But—we—we already—“ Harry stammered uselessly, dreading what to come. “We’ll have to repeat our fifth year.”

Dumbledore nodded. At least he looked sorry for them. He took out a roll of parchment and a quill. “What subjects were you tutored in?”

“Defense,” Harry started weakly, “Charms, Herbology, Potions, Transfiguration, and...Runes.” He didn’t know why he said it, but it would be the first step to figure this out.

“And Divination!” Lavender added quickly. Harry scowled. He had purposely, left out some subjects, deeming them unnecessary.

_What would Divination be like with a different teacher? Would they actually be competent?_

Dumbledore handed them the parchment, full of the books they would need. He was smiling with what looked like reassurance but was actually thinly-veiled pity. Harry didn’t feel too bad about that. Pity didn’t have to be a bad thing. It was easier, he learned, to get something out of someone when they felt bad for you. While he had no plans to take advantage of Dumbledore, it might come in handy. And it meant someone of was on his side, even if they weren’t very aware of it.

“As for where you will be staying for the night... spend the night in the infirmary? Until we can get you sorted of course.” Then Dumbledore explained the house system, going into a lot of detail about each and every one. He had hesitated in Slytherin, but didn’t spare any useless information.

“We can stay in the infirmary,” Harry confirmed hurriedly. He felt awfully empty. He didn’t know if it was because he was hungry or or because he was emotionally exhausted. Probably both.

“Lemon Ribbon?”

_Dumbledore’s love for everything lemon dates back half a century apparently._

Harry and Lavender each took one, feeling very slightly better.

***************

It was a restless night in the infirmary.

Harry couldn’t sleep and —unknown to him— neither could Lavender.

All he could think about was Tom Riddle.

Could he truly not meddle? He could save hundreds of both thousands of wizards and muggles alike. He didn’t know how exactly, but he could.

_Another thing I could do is this fun little trick where I cease to exist and time collapses into itself._

Harry turned to his side, suddenly feeling very sick. How easy would it be to simply know what to do at all time? He missed Hermione. She would’ve known what to do... Ron would’ve punched Riddle on sight after learning who he was. Harry smiled at the thought of Voldemort getting decked. How very muggle and against his agenda. No, instead of his partners in crime, he was stuck with Lavender Bloody Brown.

Lavender who believed everything people told her. Lavender who didn’t read books or was always there for him. However, it was also Lavender who lied quite spectacularly and helped him craft the story. Lavender who know enough about current and past times to not blow their cover (“Tomorrow, wear a different cloak under your black ones. Make it grey. I hope just they give you one...”).

So Lavender wasn’t the worst person to be stuck back in time with. He would take her over Draco Malfoy or Cormac McLaggen any day.

And while Harry pondered this, Lavender was on the brink of tears. Actual tears this time. Everything was just so overwhelming. While it was fun to make up a story, the second she had tasted the sour of the lemon everything clicked. She was stuck in the 40s. All alone.

No mother, no father, no Parvati, and worst of all—no Ron. Just Ron’s best friend. Harry’s alright though. Would be better if he took the stick out of his ass. Though she could easily say that about everyone she came across.

The little sleep they got either felt like nothing or was riddled with nightmares.

It was the Sorting Hat, it had bitten Harry’s head clean off after telling him he was too much of a liability to let live.

Harry woke up wishing it was real.

He sincerely hoped everyone believed Harry Evans and Lavender Green.

**************

Armando Dippet was a frail little thing. He kept his white hair trimmed unlike his deputy and his office was so bare and stripped down that it didn’t even look like anyone was headmaster.

_Preparing for his death? Planning retirement? Lucky bastard._

He didn’t question their story for a second and even supplied them their books and robes. Lavender had scowled at the robes, but was relieved to see a wool grey coat included in Harry’s set.

“Albus, if you would.”

Lavender held her breath, though she didn’t need to because the second the hat touched her head it declared, “Gryffindor!” just like the first time around. Lavender beamed.

Harry wasn’t nervous about the sorting. He had literally pulled Godric Gryffindor’s sword form the hat that was about to be placed on his head. So if there was one thing Harry was sure about, it was that he was a Gryffindor.

“Ah, another time-traveller. Hoping to join your friend?”

Harry’s eye twitched. “Just get this over with.”

“Not this time, Harry Potter. I know what you want to do, even if you don’t know it yet.”

“I’ve already proved I’m a Gryffindor, what other house could I possibly be in?” Harry knew the answer to that. “Oh, don’t you dare—“

“You’ll see that I’m never wrong, Mr.Potter. Slytherin!”

Lavender’s eyes widened but she wisely kept quiet.

Harry slipped on his tie, grumbling to himself. Killing a basilisk wasn’t enough and nor was facing a dragon. Nope. Lavender Brown was still more Gryffindor than him.

_What would Ron say? He would be horrified, his best mate in fucking Slytherin. Wait... slaying a basilisk... has the chamber been opened yet?_

Harry bit his lip to stop himself from laughing hysterically. All the things he could do... there would be no Moaning Myrtle... Hagrid wouldn’t have to be expelled. If Harry wasn’t convinced before, he was convinced now. The universe truly despised him. Hilarious.

He, in the span of less than twenty-four hours, had gone back in time, met Tom Riddle, was now being forced to live next to the evil little shit (how convenient that Riddle was in his fifth year as well?), and to choose between causing the time-line to shatter or let everyone he cared about die. And he was stuck here until further notice.

“I’ll tell Mr.Riddle, he’s a wonderful young lad, to show you around and introduce you. Ms.Green, I’m sure Ms.Longbottom would love to get you acquainted as well! She’s the Gryffindor prefect and Mr.Riddle—“

_Ah yes, this mass murderer right here is such a polite fellow! Would love to have him over for tea and discuss world domination with him._

Harry nodded when necessary. While it would be dreadful to have to endure Riddle, Harry expected nothing less of the universe. It couldn’t be worse than being the man’s number one target, could it?

Wrong.

Harry had to take a step back to not charge at the psychopath. It would be so easy to just wrap his hands around that pretty little neck and squeeze so hard that Riddle would splutter and choke. He would serve a life-sentence in Azkaban but the world would be saved and that’s all that mattered. But no, Harry liked to think he had more tact than that. Killing Riddle was not out of the question, but he couldn’t do it now.

He shook his head, clearing it of chaos-inducing decisions.

“We met yesterday, yes?” Riddle asked in that sickening voice of his.

“Yes.” Harry forced the word between his teeth.

“You were in quite a disarray.” Riddle smiled in faux amusement.

“Port-key malfunction.”

Lavender looked between the both of them. So Harry didn’t like Riddle, that was clear. So she probably shouldn’t like him too, right? She would have to ask him later. For now, she was introducing herself to Amarah Longbottom, who looked nothing like the Neville she knew.

Her face wasn’t as chubby, and her eyes were rounder. Maybe, if she pushed it, they had the same nose curve. And the way she wore her uniform was just as expected, her skirt was shorter and her sleeves were puffier and stuck out of her black cloak more.

*******************

It was weird being shown around a place Lavender already knew so well. It was a quick tour, if they showed her the whole castle she would’ve walked for days. It was calming, to have something be familiar.

Harry apparently knew more than her, but she knew he would fill her in later. At least, she hoped he did.

Amarah Longbottom was nice enough. She stood straighter than Neville, was more confident by a long-shot. Lavender found herself liking the girl, if not a bit intimated. In a regular situation, she would’ve freely talked about her life, but she was much too scared to let something slip now. Amarah must’ve mistook it for grief because she didn’t push.

When they got to Gryffindor tower, the portrait of the Fat Lady was still there and Lavender didn’t know whether she should be annoyed or relieved at the similar sight. “The password this week is ‘hippogriff’, it changes every week and you can find the sheet on the wall.”

_On the wall?_

Lavender didn’t comment. They stepped into the common room, finding it exactly the same as it will be fifty years in the future. Except no bulletin board. There were just simple sticking charms keeping everything in place.

There was a quick round of introductions, in which Lavender was introduced to her dormmates.

Sylvia Miller, a sporty muggleborn who was one of the chasers in the Gryffindor quidditch team. She was nice enough. Belle Broadmoor, she didn’t have much to say but Lavender liked her curls. Susanna Boot, who was a less intense Hermione Granger. Joanne Bones who was very sympathetic to Lavender’s situation. She liked them for now. 

Maybe she’ll be alright.

***************

Harry wasn’t lucky enough to end with hospitable dormmates. He didn’t expect himself to. No, that would be too easy.

Riddle tried to start a conversation but Harry ignored him. Riddle, being Riddle, was not very happy with this. He resorted to simply explaining the staircases and how unpredictable they were. Harry would like to push him down those staircases.

“The password is ‘anguis’. We change it every week and you can—“

“Alright.”

Riddle’s mouth snapped shut. He contemplated Harry for a second, expression blank. Then he smiled, eyes ablaze with amusement. “You’ll do horribly in Slytherin. Good luck.”

Harry decided to take it as a compliment.

The Slytherin common room looked like how it was when Harry had polyjuiced his way in. It was colder now though.

All eyes were on him, everyone judging him closely. Someone approached him, and the second he saw the platinum blonde hair, he knew who it was.

“Abraxas Malfoy.” Malfoy extended his hand and Harry was met with a strange feeling of dèjà vu. He shook the hand, hating every second.

“Harry Evans.” There. Now Malfoy would leave him alone. He was nothing but a ‘mudblood’ to them now.

Malfoy nose scrunched in disgust upon the unfamiliarity of the name.He instantly redacted his hand and left him and Riddle alone in the doorway.

“Boy’s dorms are that way.” Riddle lazily gestured to a hallway. “You can settle in.”

Harry listened without a word. There was no staircase leading to the different year dorms but there were differently marked doors. Slytherin dorms didn’t look too different from the Gryffindor ones. It just looked like someone had barfed green instead of red everywhere.

He found the bed with no trunk and placed his books and robes on top.

He wasn’t introduced to his other dormmates, he just hoped they would leave him alone like Malfoy did or not bully him too much. While he would love an excuse to hex Riddle to the moon and back, it didn’t seem like such a wise idea if he was going to be here for a while.

He just hoped Lavender was settling in better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it?


	3. Classes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won’t be able to update much, but I will write when I can.
> 
> Your comments and kudos are very appreciated <3
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter, I have more planned for the next one :)

It was cold in the Slytherin Dormitory. It didn’t matter whether there were charms in place or not, Harry still lay shivering. Hey didn’t know if it was because there was a psychopath sleeping about ten feet away from him or if it was because the sheets were made of scratchier material than he was used to. He bet his money on the former. Well, he would if he had some.

That’s right, Harry was stranded back in time with nothing but second-hand books and robes. Not even his invisibility cloak. He felt awfully vulnerable without it and the Marauder’s Map but there was nothing he could do.

Harry honestly contemplated breaking into the Potter Household (wherever that may be) and stealing the cloak before quickly shutting the idea down. The best he could do was make one himself or getting someone else to do it for him. He would need a very strong Disillusionment Charm, and he had an idea of who he wanted to ask.

Dumbledore wouldn’t be as close to Harry as he was in the future. Especially because he was a Slytherin now. He just hoped their relationship grew without him being the chosen one.

_Once a Golden Boy, always a Golden Boy._

Harry tore his curtains open when he noticed his wand started vibrating with the alarm charm. He missed the Gryffindor tower and its windows. Before, he didn’t even need an alarm because the sun’s light seeping through his drapes and that alone was enough to gently wake him up. Now it was just cold and vibrations.

He took a long shower, wishing he could stay under the warmth forever. Unfortunately, all good things come to an end because the second it turned seven, everyone else woke up. Harry changed into his robes quickly, eager to escape the suffocating glares of his dormmates.

The Great Hall was empty, save for a few students sprinkled here and there. However, there was no sign of Lavender. Harry scowled at the lack of familiarity.

He almost sat with the Gryffindors before he hastily changed directions.

Harry forced down some cereal before giving up on food all together. Seeing Riddle surrounded by a flock of students gushing over him put a stopper on his appetite.

He swiftly stood up, and was about to speed-walk away from basically younger versions of his sworn enemies when he bumped into his head of house.

Professor Slughorn was noticeably less wrinkly and his hair was much darker if not a little thin. Just like the pensieve memory.

The man chuckled heartily and patted Harry strongly in his shoulder. “Where off to, Mr.Evans? Still plenty of time to enjoy your meal!”

Harry forced a smile. “Just wanted to catchup on my lessons in the library,” he said pathetically.

Slughorn shook his head fondly. “Well, I won’t keep you. Better get Slytherin the house-cup, eh? Here’s your schedule, Tom can answer any questions you have. You could of course ask Mr.Carrow, or even come directly come to me! I can introduce you to my friend, Margery Hurley. She’s American, a therapist. You recently lost a relative, yes? A teacher? No matter! You must need someone to confide—“

“Thank you, sir.” Harry shut up the man unanticipatedly. “I’ll come directly to you.” He took the schedule, skimming it, before before returning to his previous task of heading to the library.

He had Transfiguration at the end of the day and he wondered what being taught by Dumbledore would be like.

*******************

Absolutely nothing in the library.

Harry had gathered all the books he could find on artifacts and none of them mentioned what he saw in Dumbledore’s office.

He didn’t even know what it was called or what it was supposed to be. It had been painful getting scratched by it, but probably not as painful as it should have been.

_Dumbledore must’ve had some charms in place. Shouldn’t they have prevented the injury completely?_

Harry almost told himself not to dwell on it when he realized he had to. He stared at the half-gibberish words of ‘Antiqua Artificialia’ by Honora Spaulding. It had talked about spears, swords, axes, daggers, and sabres. None of which remotely claw-like.

Harry flipped the pages mindlessly, long ago giving up the pretense of reading, when he finally put the book down. He took notice of his surroundings tiredly. Library. School. Class.

_Class!_

Harry scrambled for his satchel, feet barely grazing the ground as he rushed to Charms.

Professor Whitby was more or less forgiving. He was taller than Flitwick, but not tall and definitely not as cheerful. Brown and sheen, shoulder-length hair.

Luckily, all his classes were shared by Gryffindor. This way he could keep an eye on his time-travel buddy. Lavender made a show of of gesturing to the empty seat next to her. Almost embarrassing if he cared.

Unluckily, Tom Riddle was two seats ahead. He would rather stay as far as possible from the boy but Lavender took that choice from him.

Class passed by in a blur.

Lavender stayed uncharacteristically quiet as she failed to perform the spell they had already took the previous year.

“No, Lav. Straight line starting downwards. Yours is at an angle.” Harry had whispered. While Charms was not definitely not his worst subject, it also wasn’t his best. Also, he would never admit, but he had made the same mistake as her last time around and would’ve never passed of Hermione wasn’t there to guide him.

“Oh. Thanks, Harry.”

********************

Herbology took the most energy out of Harry.

Professor Eltgrass had been late. Late and half-drunk. The man could barely keep his head up but still gave them a confusing lesson nonetheless.

“Now, children, Moly is a very pretty flower but you should never ever eat it or else you’ll pass out or something.” The professor punctuated his sentence with a belch. Safe to say say, Harry didn’t like the gangly man.

“Actually, Professor—“

_Oh, bugger off._

“—Moly can be eaten—it is used to counteract powerful enchantments.”

“Really now? If you say so, Riddle. Twelve points to Slytherin. And, because why the hell not, three points to Gryffindor.”

That’s how the rest of the lesson went. Professor Eltgrass said something wrong; Riddle corrected him.

And finally, after two torturous hours, lunch.

Lavender and Harry made sure to walk together, it helped to dilute the stares they were receiving.

Harry sat with the second year Slytherins and ate lunch as fast as he had eaten breakfast. He wasn’t even aware of what he was putting in his mouth. Maybe potatoes; maybe sausages. Harry wouldn’t know.

He waited for Lavender to finish before heading to the Gryffindor table (oh, how their glares hurt) and dragging Lavender back to the library. He chose a secluded corner and put up his best silencing charms.

“Harry, you would not believe who’s a year behind us!”

“Who?” Harry asked with a dejected sigh.

“Professor McGonagall! She is so pretty, Harry, and she just wouldn’t stop taking about Quidditch! She is just like old McGonagall except her hair is this perfect shade of brown. I wish my hair was brown. Or black. Blonde can get so boring, I swear—“

“Lavender.”

“—Should I dye my hair? Maybe I should go for something more ‘exotic’. Like pink! Or purple! That way I can actually be ‘Lavender’! Wouldn’t that be hilarious?”

“Yeah.”

Lavender deflated. “Fine. So what’s going on?”

“Well, as you know, we are stuck in the year 1942. We somehow travelled back in time and I’m not sure how. Don’t make any friends, don’t talk unless spoken to, and just don’t do anything that would change the future.”

Lavender chewed on her bottom lip. “Alright...”

“And stay away from Tom Riddle.”

“Why?” she said with a frown, “so you do know him?”

“Of course I know him.” Harry took a deep breath. It was heard to say out loud. “He’s Voldemort. Er—a younger him.”

Lavender flinched at the name. Then her face twisted in horror. “What?!” The young man she had just yesterday thought was cute was actually the most feared dark lord in history. She had to cover her mouth to stifle a shout.

“Yes,” Harry tried to soothe, “I know.”

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’re sleeping right next to the man!” Lavender said with daunting horror. “What if he kills you? What if he—“

“Look, I know all that. I’ve already semi-accepted it. There’s nothing I can do except find a way out of here.”

“No wonder you were so angry!” Then Lavender threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. It was nice. For a single second, it was okay. The hug, a distraction, the light in the darkness Dumbledore had described in Harry’s third year.

The hug ended too soon. They walked to Transfiguration together.

Auburn-haired Dumbledore explained the lesson as brilliantly as Harry expected him to. Different from Professor McGonagall but both were just as good.

“You don’t want to flick up, because then the bottle will turn to a goose instead of a chick and we’ll have enough geese for an army!”

Half of the class chuckled lightly at the image of geese storming Hogwarts, Lavender included.

Then they practiced in silence, save for light chatter and Dumbledore correcting the ones that needed correcting.

“Turn—oot—uh—vis, Ms.Marlow. Not Turn—oot—ay—vis.”

Riddle had finished long ago and had started reading ahead. It was true then, he was good in Transfiguration.

Harry’s chick was still transparent, but he had done better than Lavender whose bottle only formed a beak.

“Your wand movements and incantation are correct. Just try to picture your chick more vividly. Every feather of every angle. I find that associating your bird with a fond memory helps.

“What do you mean, Professor?”

“I, for one, like to think of my trip to the farms in Turkey back in my youth. I had spotted a hen, her children right behind her. It was a pleasant day, one of my favorites.”

Lavender nodded. She closed her eyes tightly and seconds later, she had successfully conjured a red-feather chick.”

“Wonderful! Five points to Gryffindor. You can assist Mr. Evans while you wait.”

Then, Dumbledore noticed Riddle’s chick and awarded Slytherin ten points.

*******************

Harry’s eyelids weighed more than he could carry. He desperately wanted to sleep, just not in the Slytherin dorms. No, he wanted to snuggle in warmth of his sheets and sleep until Ron forced him out of bed and into the Quidditch field.

Lavender didn’t seem to be facing the same problem. However she did look paler than he had seen her that morning. Understandable.

That’s how the rest of the week went by. Harry, too paranoid to sleep. Lavender, too terrified to speak. Slytherin was not kind to Harry, though they left him alone for the most part. There were a few tripping jinxes here and there, subtle. He didn’t like the way they looked at him. Evaluating, scheming. He wanted to yell at them to stop, but he didn’t think they would take very kindly to that.

Saturday found Harry and Lavender in the library. Lavender was trying to go through the book that Harry had handed her, though the handwriting was too small and cursive. He had described the strange device, but she still had no idea what it could possibly be. Harry sat in silence, drowning in his thoughts. The book he was reading was easy to ignore.

“How are you finding Hogwarts?”

Harry’s head shots to meet Riddle’s gaze. “Good,” Harry replied curtly.

Lavender stared at her clammy hands.

Riddle looked like wanted to ask something, a million somethings. “What are you reading?” He settled on.

“Books.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Riddle said in amusement. He glanced at Lavender’s book, eyes roaming the page. “Ah yes, Vetus Historia Lapis by Shadrach Tewksbury. Interesting read, not very helpful to what I was looking for. However, I did find Artificialia Alphabetical by Helena Hayhurst to have what I needed. You should give it a try.”

_You can shove that book up your arse._

“Alright,” Harry said through gritted teeth, already annoyed.

“I can help. What are looking you for?”

Harry wanted to throw the book at Riddle’s face and break his nose. “Nothing. Just browsing.”

Riddle looked at the large pile next to them. “This doesn’t look like browsing.”

Harry didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. He just wanted Riddle to shove off. 

“We’re done, so it doesn’t matter,” Lavender said lowly. Riddle barely heard her, but his attention snapped to her in an instant.

He contemplated her, like he contemplated Harry when he had first stepped into Slytherin. “Well, if you need anything...”

Then, just like the first time they met, Riddle promptly turned around and out of the library.

Finally, they could breathe.


	4. The Art of Dooming Oneself and Guiding Evil Dark Lords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that this story is now available on fanfiction.net under the name Char03! Make sure to check it out there.
> 
> Sorry for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes.
> 
> Book writing is in bold.

Harry was starting to get tired of Lavender complaining about Ancient Runes. He had explained to her many times why he chose the class, yet she didn’t find his reason worthy enough for her to stop chewing his ear off. 

They were trying their best to catch up, their lousy excuse to Professor Winthrop was exactly as described: lousy.

She had asked them what they knew, and if it weren’t for Lavender, Harry would’ve died on the spot. So maybe he did owe her for saving his arse. 

“My Uncle Maurice didn’t know much, he tried his best to teach us...”

Pity was such a lifesaver.

So, now they were rapidly skimming through past textbooks. Harry already felt dizzy. How Hermione did this, he would never know.

There were too many shapes and lines and variations of shapes and lines. Maybe he would’ve found it easier if he took the subject in his third year, these students did have a two year head-start on him after all.

They almost made flashcards, but honestly, they didn’t know how. 

Lavender asked her dormmate, Joanne Bones, for help. Joanne had helpfully given them an old children’s book in runes, and all they had to do was translate it. 

It was easier said than done. Although they had a guide, runes was just as tricky as any other language. Like how in English, the sound ‘ch’ doesn’t always sound the same (if ‘chair’ and ‘character’ we’re any indication). 

Maybe if Harry stopped his mind from wandering, he might have a chance of catching up. But he just couldn’t get the look Riddle gave him in Runes out of his mind. Smug? Amused? Disgusted? Suspicious? He just couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Lavender, who was much better at reading people than he was, had shrugged. “I don’t like looking at him.”

He liked that she understood to stay away from the man, but there was something up with her.

While Lavender steered clear of Riddle, she also seemed to try her best to avoid Harry’s gaze. It kind of hurt, especially because she was the only person he could talk to without dooming his existence. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Lavender whined. “I’m hungry.”

Harry closed his book with a sigh. “Dinner isn’t for an hour.”

Lavender groaned and slammed her head on the table. 

“We can get something from the kitchens...?”

Lavender’s head shot up. “You know where the kitchens are?” The first time she looked him directly in the eyes for a while. 

“Yes,” Harry said, “let’s go.”

The kitchen was just as chaotic as he expected, with house-elves running about, platters full with food levitating overhead. 

Lavender deeply inhaled, relishing in the smell of baking bread and slowly-roasted meat. 

A house-elf almost immediately rushed to them, eager to serve. “How can Tippy helps yous today?”

“Can you get us something quick to eat while we wait for dinner?”

They were led to a circular table in the corner, away from the hustle and bustle. When the soup and vegetable paella appeared, they ate in silence, content. 

“Harry,” Lavender said suddenly, putting down her fork. 

“Yeah?” Harry replied, forcefully swallowing what he had in his mouth. 

Lavender immediately averted her gaze. “Do you really think we can stay _here_ without... meddling?”

“Well, yes. As long as we keep our heads down and—“

“No, that’s not what I meant...”

Harry stared at her in silence, waiting for her to elaborate. When he realized her attention drifted elsewhere, he gently nudged her with his foot.

“I mean... there’s so much we can fix...”

_Oh._

“I know, Lav.” He ran his fingers through his hair, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’ve thought about it, too. But what if we do more bad than good? We could cause so much damage...”

Harry thought about how he rescued his godfather in his third year. They had meddled then, quite impressionably. 

_Maybe it wouldn’t hurt..._

But they hadn’t travelled to the 1940s back then. Three years ago, it had just been a couple of hours. 

Harry wished he could ask Dumbledore, he wished he could ask Hermione. Even Ron might’ve had something helpful to say, the redhead always knew what to say when Harry was at his lowest. 

“I know! But wouldn’t it be so wonderful if we wouldn’t have to worry about You-Know-Who? No one would even know him! We could save so many lives...”

“Or doom them.”

“We don’t have to do much! Just... anything to stop it. Even if it is small.”

“Fine. Humor me then, what would you do?”

“Erm—we can learn more about him? Find out his secrets? We could kill him?”

“No,” Harry said quickly. While he would love to kill Voldemort, he just couldn’t feel comfortable killing someone his age. “That’s out of the question... until he’s twenty.”

“Oh, alright.” Then Lavender’s vision unfocused. “We could... guide him.”

“Guide him?!” Harry said in surprise. Then he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “he’s a murderer! You want to ‘guide’ Lord Bloody Voldemort?!”

“He’s not You-Know-Who yet! That’s the whole point!” Lavender exclaimed defensively. “Come on, Harry! You can’t be serious! You could save so many people! So many!”

Harry reared back. She was right, he knew that. He wished things were simple for once. Maybe then he would’ve just killed Riddle instantly. But no, they weren’t. He was presented with a chance, a chance to save his parents, a chance to save the Wizarding World. 

But time was so unpredictable. Maybe, if he was in his fifth year, he would’ve agreed without question. But the death of Sirius changed him, he couldn’t just run face-first into impending danger, he had to think (Hermione would be proud). 

Would he cease to exist if he decided to befriend Tom Riddle? Would he watch himself grow up, with his parents? Would he just disappear and not remember anything, going on with life?

Harry had to do some research. Shit.

“No,” Harry finally said quietly, “we have to find out more before we do anything. How we got here and how time even works.”

Lavender agreed silently.

***************

Books were quickly becoming Harry’s least favorite thing. He went through them as fast as he could, trying his best to pay attention. Problem was, they all said different things. 

Lavender didn’t join him this time, but he wondered what she was doing. He hoped she was okay. He knew how she felt. He just wished she could try to see things from his point of view. Maybe she could.

**Time is linear.**

**Time is a tree.**

**Time is circular.**

**Time is a complicated concept. One might say that time is split every time something changes or a decision is made. This renders it possible to exist across different infinite timelines.**

Harry almost skimmed past the words, when his attention immediately snapped back. He liked the sound of that, time being split. He read on, with much more vehemence. 

**The Ticking Tyndall Theory speculates that if one were presented with three different doors, a new timeline would be created for every choice made. One could go for the right door, while also existing in another alternate chronology where they selected the left door.**

**Along with The Ticking Tyndall Theory, there’s The Horae Paradox. If one were to travel to a different timeline or even traverse through time (whether back or ahead),** **two versions of the person would exist. This paradox permits the possibility of meeting oneself.**

**While never practiced, it has been predicted that meeting oneself will cause your brain to implode. Whether it be due to the shock or the impossibility of such a feat is unclear.**

**The universe has rules. Going against** **these rules has its consequences. I predict that the implosion of ones brain is a consequence. While one might die, they also continue to live.**

**Time-travel is dangerous. I advise to never use such magics. The risk of dangerous consequence is much too high.**

Harry closed the book with a sigh. 

_Well that clears everything up._

The next time Harry had the chance to talk to Lavender, it was Monday and they were being taught by their raging alcoholic Herbology professor. 

“Hey,” Harry murmured, picking at Lavender’s sleeve. “I want to show you something.”

“Fine,” Lavender said haughtily, even though Harry didn’t say anything inherently wrong. 

During lunch, Harry showed Lavender the passage in the book. 

“Oh,” she said somberly. 

“Do you get it now? We can’t just mess with everything without consequence.”

Lavender tapped her fingers on the table noisily. “I guess we’ll just let everyone die.” Tense.

They avoided each other for the rest of the day. Harry partnered up with Joanne Bones, the only willing Gryffindor, while Lavender was stuck with the disdainful Delano Higgs who purposefully distracted her from Transfiguration. 

To Harry’s chagrin, it was like that for the rest of the week. Neither of them spoke or even looked at each other. The only interaction between them was the exchanging of books. 

One day, Harry caught Lavender staring at a Ravenclaw, two shelves away. Harry followed her gaze.

Myrtle. 

A fully solid Myrtle flipped through the pages of a book, tear tracks very evident on her face. She sniffled faintly, occasionally murmuring to herself (which was loud due to her high-pitched whine of a voice).

Then Myrtle caught his eye. She, mistaking his staring for something else, smiled faintly and started twirling her hair. 

Then, before Harry knew it, she headed towards him, book in hand. 

“Hi!” 

_Oh, fuck me._

“Hello.”

Myrtle sat down, uninvited. “I caught you staring at me.” She dropped her book on the table with a loud thud.

“Err... alright...”

Harry heard a muffled laugh. Lavender. 

“So, is there anything you want to say to me?”

“No?”

Myrtle pouted, crossing her arms. “I just said I caught you staring.”

Harry stared at her. He hated how he couldn’t see through her. How pink her cheeks her, how her hair shone, how her eyes glinted. Alive. Myrtle was alive and sitting right in front of him. 

And, a tiny part of Harry couldn’t help but love it. 

He knew, at that second, he couldn’t just let the girl die (annoying as she might be).

*****************

The next day, he caught Lavender heading to Runes. 

“Fine,” he said, “we’ll do something.”

Lavender hugged him again, burying her face into the crook of her neck. “Oh thank you, Harry! I promise we’ll do good!”

Yes. Even if he might cause his brain to implode, this was worth it.

They planned after class, Harry’s quill frantically scratching against the parchment. 

In big, bold letters:

How We’ll Save The World (or whatever)

Harry cleared his throat. “So, we can’t kill anyone. Not unless we are willing to head to Azkaban.”

Lavender nodded, mocking his sternness. “All we can do is guide or befriend him then.”

“Yes. Or, we can wait until we graduate and bash his head through a wall.”

“I like that idea, too.”

Lunch and their free period were spent like that, them writing a pro and cons list for every scenario. Then, finally, Harry circled what they decided to do. 

Befriend Tom Riddle.

*****************

Harry composed himself, pushing away all of his doubt to the corner of his mind. 

“Riddle,” he said, firmer than he expected. 

Riddle was sitting with a group of students (which ignored Harry), the diversity of houses unexpected. “Yes?” Riddle raised a brow in question, gently setting down the book he was reading. 

“What was the book you said I could use? Last week or something, in here.”

Riddle’s brow lowered. “Artificialia Alphabetical by Helena Hayhurst.”

“Right.” Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

Riddle, being the unsettling person he was, once again contemplated Harry. “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I could help more,” he said after forever passed.

Harry wasn’t very keen to describe the device he encountered. He did, nonetheless. 

“Sounds like the Spanish Tickler. We covered it in History of Magic.”

Was it possible it could be that easy? “Thanks again,” he said quickly, trying his best to not sprint away. He left at a what he hoped casual pace, not letting himself be perturbed by the fact Voldemort himself just _assisted_ him.

The next day, Riddle cornered him in the Slytherin dormitory. 

“We have a study group. You are welcome to join.”

Harry didn’t like how close they were standing. “Okay. Is Lavender welcome as well?”

“Yes. We meet every Tuesday and Thursday at four.”

Harry could do this. 

When he came to inform Lavender, he caught her with another girl. 

“Hi, Harry!” Lavender waved him over. “This is Minerva McGonagall,” she said with a grin. 

Harry looked closer at the girl. Not a single wrinkle, just pure unblemished fourteen year old. 

“H-hullo.” Harry’s voice thickened involuntarily. 

“Hello.” McGonagall looked at him sharply, squaring him up. “I have to go. Quidditch practice.”

The Gryffindor silently left, leaving Harry suddenly feel very joyless.

He updated Lavender.

*********************

The next night, when Harry felt like he could collapse, he was cornered once again. This time, no Tom Riddle could be seen, just unfriendly Slytherins. 

“So,” a Slytherin girl said scornfully, “you think you can just walk in here and spread your filth in Salazar Slytherin’s house? You think you’re like us, because Tom invited you to his study group?”

Harry scowled, nails digging into his own palms as he clenched his fists. “No,” he said slowly, not in the mood to argue. “I know I’m just an inferior muggleborn, basking in the pureblood’s nobility.” 

The girl blinked in surprise. Then she laughed snidely. “It is a good thing you know your place then. You ought to stay like that. Don’t get too bold, we’ll have to do something you won’t like.”

_I’ll do something you won’t like. I’ll steal away your little lord and make sure Hermione Granger is born._

“Sounds good,” Harry said, holding back, “I’ll stay out of your hair.”

He couldn’t sleep that night either.

When he woke up, he found out he was just threatened by Primrose Parkinson, just as nasty as her granddaughter (at least Harry thought the girl was Pansy’s grandmother).

The jinxes and hexes in the hall got worse, though they never escalated beyond stinging and stickfast hexes.

The days just kept getting longer for Harry and Lavender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone that commented here and on ffn, this is now firmly Lavender/Harry!
> 
> Criticism is welcome :)


	5. Runes and Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes!
> 
> Late update but it is a bit longer than all the other chapters :)
> 
> Criticism is welcome!

Green eyes darted across the pages of a worn book. Harry’s fingers were white as they held the treatise, hating how helpful it actually was. 

The Spanish Tickler was a medieval torture device. It, just as expected, was used to scratch people all over their bodies. However, the one pictured in the book was much smaller than the one in Dumbledore’s office and instead of the four claws pictured, there were three.

Lavender grimaced when she had seen the picture, a man having been hung by his hands. He was naked, the Spanish Tickler scratching him all over his body. The worst part was his face, which was painted with horror and pain. Basically how Harry felt whenever he saw Snape. 

The Spanish Tickler was not a magical device. 

That was what scared Harry the most. No runes carved into the metal, no enchantments. Just claws and pain.

He closed the book as gingerly as he could, not wanting to damage it anymore than it already was. He placed it back, having already gotten everything he needed from it. 

Harry had tried writing down the Runes he saw when he first picked up the tickler, but his mind drew blanks. It was vague in his head, his memory not good enough to store the very vital information. Funny how he couldn’t remember that, but could easily recall the outcome of every Quidditch World Championship outcome since 1894.

He could remember the outcome of every Quidditch World Cup since 1894. He was in the 1940s. He didn’t have any money in the 1940s. 

_ Money... _

Harry felt the very tight knot on his chest loosen, he found a solution to something. He could easily bet on the matches, that’s how he would make money. It was the little things.

“Found what you were looking for?”

Harry cursed, nearly jumping out of his skin. “You can’t just creep up on people like that,” he hissed venomously, unable to catch himself in time. 

Riddle shrugged nonchalantly. “Not my fault you didn’t hear me sidle up to you.”

“ Sidle? ” Harry murmured to himself.  _ Can’t he just talk like a regular person? _ “Well it makes you creepy.”

Once again, Riddle shrugged, now smiling. “No matter. Did you find the book helpful?”

“Yes.”

There was an awkward silence, Harry trying his best to ignore Riddle’s suffocating presence while he pretended to read book titles. It was hard to read them when they were written vertically on the spine. 

“...Do you know any books on Runes?”

“Runes like what?”

“Er—just ones that you won’t find in class.”

Riddle chuckled lowly, a shipwreck in Harry’s ears. “Can you even handle the ones we  _ do _ take in class?” 

Harry couldn’t believe Voldemort was mocking him for his subpar Runes skills. “You don’t have to help.”  _ Arse. _

“No, no, I was simply joking. I can help of course. What Runes exactly? There are many categories. Curse Runes, Protection Runes, Ritual Runes...”

Harry pondered the question, trying to forget Tom Riddle was just joking with him.“Curse. Or protection.”

Riddle inspected the shelf, then he drew a book, handing it to Harry. “Looking to curse someone?”

“Yes.” Harry replied unhelpfully. 

“Oh? Who, might I ask?”

_ No, you might not ask.  _

“You.” A half-lie, half-something else. 

Riddle’s eyes glinted with mirth. “Good luck, then. Don’t forget, we meet here on four o’clock the day after tomorrow.”

“Mhm, yeah,” Harry dismissed, flipping through the pages and pretending he could understand the words. 

“I can help you in Runes.”

Harry wanted to refuse. “Sounds...good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t be late.”

That’s when Harry knew he had to be late. A life-changing discovery.

*****************

Riddle knew Harry wouldn’t understand a word in the book. That’s probably why he gave it to him. He was still in the library, hours later, trying to decipher what anything could possibly mean. 

Harry squinted, pressing the book as close as possible to his face. It was in English yes, but most of it was also in Runes (nothing like the ones in Joanne’s children’s book). 

He really wanted to give up, but there was just this nagging presence in his head, screaming at him to try harder. It was always there, but it was louder now. 

He’ll just have to ask Professor Winthrop. Maybe make up some excuse about how his parents were cursed or something and he was trying to figure some kind of solution out, that they were in some special hospital in China, as long as she felt bad for him. 

“It is disgusting, really,” Lavender suddenly said, plopping down next to him, “how no one stands up to Gladstone.” She crossed her arms, glaring at the wood of the table like it cursed her. When she saw Harry had nothing to say, she continued. “He’s a boy in Gryffindor. Dale Gladstone. He’s such a tosser, Harry, don’t even get me started!”

“I won’t.”

“He and some other boys, they were making bets on some innocent girls, saying how they want to—“ her face twisted in disgust—“ shag  them. I mean, I get boys and all that, but it was horrible! I heard some really crude things, and all the girls ignored them! Said that this is how they usually talk. Can you believe that? Some of the things they were saying were really, really bad! My older cousin, Nathaniel, is foul and even I know he would absolutely never! If he heard what this Gladstone said, he would hex him on the spot! That’s saying a lot considering he slept with his own sister-in-law. That was absolutely disgusting too, why would he want—?“

“Can you read this?” Harry quickly said, shoving the book to her direction. He was already ready to give up on it, but at least it was a distraction. 

Lavender squinted. “No. Why? What is it?”

Harry wished Lavender could read his mind so he didn’t have to talk anymore, but then he realized how much of a nightmare that would be. “Remember the runes I talked about? I’m trying to figure out what they mean...I asked Riddle and this is what he gave me. Twat probably knew I would have to ask him for help again.”

Lavender tutted. “You should get used to not insulting him. Makes it easier to get along, makes our goal easier. Supposed to trick your mind.”

“My mind doesn’t need anybody else tricking it, much less itself.”

“What?”

“Never-mind.” Harry fidgeted with his sleeve, hating the rough material. “I’m tired,” he said with a sigh, “wish I could sleep,” he murmured. His eyelids struggled to stay up, blinking coming way too easy. 

“Sleep here,” Lavender said, “I’ll keep watch if anyone comes.” 

Harry could barely nod in thanks.

******************

When Tom saw two students out of bed, he didn’t think much of it. It was a strange location to bang, considering they were in the middle of a hallway, but he doesn’t let himself spend much time contemplating the minds of his inferiors. 

But these students weren’t going at it, they were too disoriented and angry, like they’ve hit themselves on the head very hard. He couldn’t see why it had anything to do with Dumbledore, or any teacher in fact, but then again, he doesn’t let himself contemplate. 

Tom had brushed it off, interpreting the boy’s fear of him as fear of detention or point-loss. “Actions have consequences,” he had thought dismissively, “what did they expect?” But when he had saw the boy again the next day, he was a bit perturbed. 

Hatred, searing hatred, in emerald green eyes. It was like he was being seen through. Every mask he had spent years constructing, knocked right off his face. Harry Evans despised him, and Tom had no idea why. 

Then, like a switch, the hatred seemed to stop. There was still a sense of tension, but it wasn’t anything like the migraine he got whenever he used to looked at Evans. Tom hadn’t even done anything at that point to convince both Evans and Green to stop hating him so. Except Green didn’t hate him as much as fear him. And while Tom ate her fear up like Evans with treacle tart, he didn’t understand it. What good was fear if he wasn’t even doing anything? Well, according to them at least.

It had been satisfying, giving Evans a book that even he couldn’t easily read. A small punishment, for the hatred that was displayed. He had no idea why Evans could possibly want to curse anyone, but it made sense with Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin on his back. Tom didn’t try to reprimand them. Evans was a new target, an easy one, but it didn’t make him much fun. They would leave him alone eventually (unless he cursed them, then they would make his life hell). But Tom would stay either way. Because Tom didn’t like hatred, and he didn’t like fake (unless it was coming from him). 

Evans did have a weird air about him. Like he was missing something he never even had. He would stare off into the distance, eyes glossy like a doll, fingers tapping ona table or feeling his sleeves. Then, he would sigh, close his eyes for a long second, and go back to what he was doing. Whatever Evans was missing, Tom would figure it out. 

Tom was too hesitant to use legilimency. He didn’t want to have to look directly in Evans’ eyes, and even if he did, it felt wrong, like he should be doing something else to figure him out. Green never even looked at him, and frankly, he wasn’t too interested in her.

He just had to befriend the boy. He was good in Defense, so maybe he would even convince him to join The Knights. 

He still wasn’t too sure about Green, if she could be of any value, but things would play themselves out. 

He just had to guide them both.

****************

There was someone playing with Harry’s hair. 

They ran through his dark locks slowly, their nails brushing over his scalp. It was like a persuasion, a bribe, to feel better. Like someone was paying him to feel calm, except it was just the stroking of his hair. 

“Thanks, Lavender,” Harry said, shoulder slumping. His neck was starting hurt, his cheeks pressed against cold wood. If his hair wasn’t being played with, he would’ve woken up in a more sour mood. 

“Lavender? I’m not lavender, I’m white! Do I look like a pixie to you?” 

Harry’s eyes shot open at the recognition of the voice. He groaned and threw his head back, a desperate prayer going through his head as he tried to think of what to say. “Myrtle,” he hissed, “what the fuck?” 

“Language!” Myrtle said sternly, crossing her arms. “Well,” she melted, playing with a strand of her hair, “you can say anything you want, really.” 

“Where’s Lavender?” Harry asked, ignoring the not-dead-girl. He wanted to be angry at Lavender, but all he could feel was disappointment. 

“Lavender? The girl you’re always with, right?”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

Myrtle shifted in her seat. “I saw her leave... something about a rock that’s happy.” She bit her lip. “Why? Do you like her?”

“A rock that’s happy?” Harry’s brows furrowed. Then he felt a creeping sense of dread, wrapping around his head and giving him a huge headache. “Do you mean... Gladstone?”

“Yeah, whatever. Do you like her?”

“Did you see where she went?” 

“Why do you care?” Myrtle harrumphed, “is she your girlfriend?”

Harry got his satchel and knocked back his chair. His feet carried him out of the library, not fast enough. And maybe he shouldn’t have cared, but the voice in his head was screaming at him, and Harry could never resist listening to his gut.

Right as he was about to turn the corner to Gryffindor tower, he saw Lavender. Her face was red, but dry, so she obviously wasn’t crying. 

“What did you do?” Harry immediately asked. 

Lavender frowned. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Myrtle said she saw you talk to Gladstone, or mention him, whatever it is you were doing, she wasn’t specific.”

Lavender stared at Harry blankly, then she rolled her eyes. “I was just heading to the bathroom, and he was being a git. I didn’t say anything to him.” She stuck her nose high in the air. “In fact, he’s the one that tried to talk to me. I ignored him, of course.”

“Then why do I still feel like you did something?” 

Lavender frowned. “But I didn’t, though! That’s what I just said!”

Harry felt the knot in his chest tighten and again. “But... why? Why didn’t you do something? You didn’t even talk to him?”

“No...” she sighed, “you said to keep it on the low. I really wanted to, but I’m not risking rumors or attention, just because I wanted to hex the vile thoughts out of his head. I would love attention right about now. You’re lucky you’re right about time collapsing and what not or else I would’ve already confronted him.”

Harry wanted to laugh, he wanted to be relieved, but he just couldn’t. Instead, he tried to breathe. The tighter the knot got, the harder it was for him to inhale. 

“Harry? Are you alright? You look pale.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, “let’s head down to the kitchen before Potions.”

************************

Thursday felt like a storm when it came. Harry had seen it on the forecast, except he didn’t take it seriously until he actually had to go to the dreaded meeting in the library. 

He had stayed late after Runes, trying to stall. He even gave his bullshit excuse to Professor Winthrop, but it didn’t work because she had asked too many questions at once. And Harry couldn’t be bothered with the woman anymore. At least he had the study group, and if he didn’t, he would figure it out. 

“Evans,” Riddle said, “you’re late.”

_ Excellent observation skills, no wonder he reigned supreme in the future. _

Harry shrugged. “You saw me talk to Winthrop.”

Riddle surveyed Harry. “You can sit next to Gloria.” He gestures towards a fourth-year Ravenclaw, only a seat away from him. 

“Penny usually sits next to Gloria,” a fifth-year Hufflepuff said, “she helps her with Arithmancy.”

Riddle’s eyes glinted. “Gloria—“ he turned to the girl—“do you mind if you and Penny sit over there? I promised Evans I would help him with Runes.”

_As if my soul would combust if he didn’t help me. Wait..._

“Oh...Alright,” Gloria said in disappointment.

“Where’s Green?” Asked Riddle, turning back to Harry.

“She’s busy, she’ll be here next time.”

In truth, Harry had sent Lavender on a mission to befriend Dumbledore. While he would have loved to have a familiar face here, he would also love to sit down with his mentor again. Lavender had a better chance at succeeding, being a Gryffindor, so he sent her to the old man’s office. 

“That’s a shame,” Riddle said, like it wasn’t a shame at all, “did you bring the book I gave you?”

Harry held back the urge to scowl. He was right in assuming he had been given an arduous book to read on purpose. “Right here,” he said through gritted teeth, plonking it on the table with an inelegance. 

He sat across from Riddle, so it was hard being taught a book that was upside down, but he prospered. 

He prospered to learn it wasn’t helpful in the least. He recognized none of the runes, and none of them had anything to do with time. 

Harry had picked at his sleeve, wondering if he should ask about time-travel, if time-travel runes even existed, but the thought of being even remotely questioned horrified him.

Riddle only spent thirty minutes focused on him, before diverting his attention to a couple other students who needed help in various subjects. 

This gave a lot of time for Harry to dwell, to miss, to want to fall asleep. He needed to brush up on what he actually took in class, he knew that, except it was hard with his parents’ murderer a seat across from him, people that could’ve already died in the future sitting right beside him. It was like he was a fully-colored rendering in non-magical black-and-white painting, standing out so profusely but only he knew it. 

“Hey,” he whispered to a Gryffindor next to him. Shoulder-length dirty blond hair and and a pathetic attempt at a mustache. He had seen the boy while he was staring wistfully at the Gryffindor table, talking about quidditch and such. “Want to make a bet?”

“A bet?” The Gryffindor said, recoiling, “on what?”

“The Caerphilly Catapults and Kenmare Kestrels. They’re playing this weekend.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“So? You want to bet or not?”

The boy tapped his chin in thought. “Who are you betting on?”

“The Catapults.”

The boy scoffed. “No way... you’re on. How much?”

Harry grinned. “Ten Galleons,”

“Double it. The Catapults haven’t won a game since 1850, if they win, I’ll cut off my own ears and sell ‘em.”

“Twenty it is. Harry Evans.”

“Michael Perry.”

“When you cut your ears off, do me a favor and just give them to—”

“No Quidditch or bets at the study table,” Riddle said suddenly, pulling Harry down and out of his high. 

“My bad.”

_ Twat. _

*********************

“May I come in, Professor?” Lavender asked as she knocked on Dumbledore’s door. 

“Yes, come right in, Ms.Green,” Dumbledore called out, the faint scratch of a quill on his end. 

Lavender steadied her breathing. She took a seat awkwardly, waiting for a chance to say something. 

“Was there something you needed?”

Lavender focused on the tip of Dumbledore’s quill. “Erm—yes, sir.”

“Ah, just as well,” Dumbledore put down the quill gently and intertwined his fingers together. “And what might that be?”

“There’s a couple of Gryffindor boys, sir, who’ve been—“ Lavender recalled the rude comments Gladstone had made as she walked by—“absolutely repulsive.”

Dumbledore frowned. “How, exactly?”

“They’ve been betting on some girls, even third-years! And all the comments they make as I walk down the hall... no one is saying anything to them, and it isn’t right!” 

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his temple. “Disappointing. Do you have any names?”

“Yes!” She counted them all on her hand, never a second of hesitation. 

“Thank you, Ms.Green, I’ll make sure they are properly punished.”

“Thank you too, Professor!”

There was a tense silence. 

“Was there anything else?”

“Oh! Erm...yes?” Lavender recalled the script she was given in her head. “It is been a bit hard at Hogwarts, with everyone staring.”

Dumbledore leaned back on his chair. “Very admirable, talking to someone about your feelings. Go on, I’ll give as much support as you need.”

*******************

Harry picked up his book lazily, nearly dropping it. He yawned, throwing his satchel over his shoulder and nearly spilling all of its contents. 

“Careful now,” Riddle said.

“Yeah, okay.”

Harry hadn’t noticed anyone start to leave, they had all been slow, hesitant to get away from Riddle’s side. So now, Harry was left to deal with the megalomaniac. 

“I would’ve never taken you as a Quidditch fan.”

“And that’s because...?”

“You just don’t seem like the type to enjoy things.”

“Haha, very funny.”

“I’m serious. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you any good?”

Harry tried not to smile as he reminisced the feeling of the wind in his hair, the adrenaline that came whenever he saw the snitch. “No,” he lied, “I don’t play enough to be any good.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. What position do you play?”

“Chaser,” Harry lied again.

“You don’t seem like a chaser.”

“Yet here we are.”

Riddle let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Our first match is two weeks away. We’re up against Gryffindor. Are you gonna bet on it, too?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to evaluate both teams, because I’m professional.”  _ And totally not from the future.  _

“I’ll save you a seat.”

“No, thanks. I’m doing fine betting on actual teams.”

“Oh, yeah? How much money have you made?”

“...Sev-seventy Galleons. But I lost them all betting on the wrong team.”

“Such a shame. Are you saving up for anything?”

_ What is this? An interrogation? _

“No. Do  _ you _ play Quidditch?” 

Riddle laughed again. “I could never. However, I do support my house.”

“So, not a fan at all?”

“I could be.” He smiled. “Maybe if I see a match interesting enough. I bet you’re good enough at it, you should try to get a spot on the team. If you’re not, that’s just more entertainment for me.”

“Glad my abysmal chaser skills are entertaining.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you play, can’t be the judge of something I don’t know about.”

“Wise.”

Riddle shook his head again, even fonder now. It made Harry’s whole body cringe, hating how friendly he was being, how out of his hands this whole thing was. 

“Better get going. Bring Green on Tuesday.”

Harry slept a little better that night, no longer feeling like he was being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas, suggestions, or requests feel free to share them with me!


End file.
